


Only Us

by CommanderInChief



Series: Snapshots and Short Stories [1]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Candles and Snuggles, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:11:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderInChief/pseuds/CommanderInChief
Summary: Henrik and Roxanna heal for that they have lost. Together.





	Only Us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [snapegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapegirl/gifts).



> Hi guys, so I know that the entire fandom's headcanoning Roxanna as a bisexual goddess with a particularly sapphic awakening, and you ladies are doing the Lord's work. But Holby's weird uncle needs hugs too and in the absence of fic... well... you get the idea.

It is a dark night in Holby. One of many, when the curtain falls early and the trains come late and all of it’s busy occupants scurry about with their coats tied tight, already longing for Summer. For the first time since the winter before, the skyline is alight. Every building, an advent calendar, all doors flung open. White and yellow and orange are offered in return for the droplets of frost creeping in at the corners of windowpanes.

The bottom right window of the seventeenth cottage of the third street of this City is no kind of exception. Put your hand to the glass and the cold would tingle, then scorch. If one of the silvery night clouds had looked in, they would have found the light emerging to be one of toffee.

Not a common colour nowadays. Not unique but not common. Its storybook gold is spun by flames. Peer further inside and you would find a spattering of long lilac candles, all lit except one.

At the epicentre, the silhouette of two people, leaning together on a barren floor. One is tall, angular at the shoulders, hips and jaw. Its arm cannot be seen. From shadow alone, you could just make out the peeking of rounded fingers, perhaps, at the shoulder of the figure on its right. This one is smaller and slouched. A quiff of hair peaks up.

Under white light, that hair would be blonde. Naturally so. The woman that it belongs to runs her fingers through it once, then twice. She sighs. It comes out in a white trail of steam.

“Typical that, of all the months we’ve lived here, it’s today that we get the power cut.“ Her voice can’t hold conviction for very long. She looks at him and her eyes give up on sterness. They sparkle instead. “No doubt David would’ve found it funny.”

The other person’s face undergoes much the same transformation but does so facing the floor. “He certainly had his own way of looking at the world. Saw a redeeming quality in every person, found the glint of humour in any scenario.” Henrik rests his chin on the top of her head.

Conversations can work like this, now. Three words. A single touch. They haven’t made love yet. They barely kiss. At the beginning of all of this, Roxanna wondered if she had chosen to love Henrik or the outline of his presence. Now, they are one and the same. Sit long enough with him and the stillness will cover you up in a blanket. Her heart is slow. Her breathing is easy. Like meditation.

They still haven’t discussed what _this_ is, but it feels a lot like healing – and that is enough.

“I miss him,” Comes the deeper voice and his eyes mirror the twirling of a flame.

Roxanna put her hand on his chest. His heart beats like David’s doesn’t.

The way that it hasn’t in three hundred and sixty five days.

One year today.

“So do I.”


End file.
